


Fateful Spell

by Thacmis (orphan_account)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Thorki - Freeform, revenge gone wrong for loki, well only for Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Thacmis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What results from this miscast spell is beyond anything either of them could ever have imagined... Thorki cheese and fluff :D</p><p>WRITTEN: Jun. - Aug. 2012<br/>ADDED TO AO3: Jan. 2015 - (updating and editting every chapter periodically before placing them here. My writing was atrocious)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Miscast Spell

_New, long story about Thor and Loki. It will mostly be from Loki's point of view, but every once in a while I'll do a Thor's point of view, because I know just how sweet it is to read the story from the "other guy's" perspective. :)  
_

_Loki is around nineteen; so is Thor._

* * *

It was a pretty peaceful day. The sky was clear, the breeze was nice, the leaves were tinted red as a sign of the advancing Autumn. The grass rustled and whispered songs of sleep, while birds chirped here and there to prepare one another for the annual migration. In all, the atmosphere was one of light calm. It was the perfect day to end summer break.

Loki sat on a large oak stump reading a spells book. Once school began he wouldn't have time to learn the spells that interested him, so he was grabbing what time he had left to learn a last bit of fun magic to prepare to amuse himself during school. He loved learning, and he loved magic. Fortunately, he was gifted with a talent for magic, and this combination allowed him to be the top academic student in Asgard Secondary. There were no rivals; no one had the level of intelligence remotely close to his. Thus, he had no one to hold a grudge against.

Perhaps Thor was an exception. He almost regarded him as a rival, and a rather hateful one. He didn't rival Loki in academics, though; while Loki held the spot for being the smartest student, Thor held the spot for being the most popular. This wasn't jealousy. He was irritated at how Thor attracted the favour of nearly every person in the school, including teachers, so effortlessly, while the smart one toiled with his studies to gain a mere smile from one teacher. He didn't seem to care about life, while Loki did, but Thor got more from life than he did. So he hated him for it. And though they knew about each other's existence, they've never exchanged a single word. And Loki was quite happy that way. He loathed his crass, flippant, guts -

Loki took a deep breath. No. This was the last day of summer break, and he mustn't waste energy on hatred. He refocused on the page before him.

The spell he was learning was a complicated, but delicious, one. It involved much time, concentration and many words, but the product, he believed, would be more than worth it, and the effort it required appealed to his studious nature. It was a spell of transformation: directed at any organism - a plant, an insect, or a deer - the creature will turn into a young girl. Loki'd always wanted to know what an insect would look like as a human girl. Besides, if any of Thor's hulking friends decided to gang up on him, he could always use this as a defense.

Now that would be hilarious.

Smirking to himself quietly, Loki began to gather energy onto the tips of his fingers, and aimed it at a lonely dandelion swaying in the breeze. His mouth smoothly formed the words, and he let it flow.

A shout sounded nearby. Loki paid it no attention; spells can go dangerously awry if interrupted or stopped in the middle. Continuing as he did before, as if there had been no interruption, and he hoped that the person would go away.

He - the voice was rough and masculine, vaguely familiar - didn't go away. Rather, he came nearer, and trailing him was the sound of rude laughter of several friends. Loki didn't know who it was because his eyes were on the flower. Still he continued the spell, though Loki was becoming slightly irritated.

At last, Loki was on the final four words. Three words. Two words.

One wor -

A sudden, jaw-shuddering force shook him off his seat on the oak stump, and sent him flying into a nearby pond. The shallow but cold water paralyzed him for a few seconds, but his senses returned quick enough afterwards. His hands were buried beneath his torso and bruised against rocks, while his fingers jutted into his chest, causing slight problems in breathing. He freed them, however, and was boiling with rage, the spell momentarily forgotten. He turned to see who it was, and was not surprised.

It was Thor, and his stupid, stupid friends.

The worst thing was that Thor didn't even  _see_  who it was he pushed over. No, he didn't even  _know_  he had pushed someone over. By this time he was already halfway across the field with his lumbering friends, his back a mocking, sneering eyesore to his sight.

Loki  _hated_  his guts.

He stumbled back into his vast, empty house, soaking wet and numb.

* * *

What a bloody great way to end the summer vacation.

Nobody lived in his house so he didn't have to explain to anyone about his disheveled appearance. His father was away on another one of his billion business trips to Jotunnheim, he had no siblings - that is, none that he knew of (he has suspicions since his father was often surrounded by young girls, and his father wasn't the most passion-free man out there) and his mother had died, before he could remember, for a reason his father refused to explain.

Dropping the bag and textbook on the floor, he went into the nearest bathroom to change clothes and take a shower before the cold of the pond-water seeped into his skin. Loki fumbled with his shirt, his fingers stiff. Then something long and black curtained Loki's vision.

He looked up, startled. Had something followed him inside?

The mirror caught his eyes, and what he saw in the reflection gave him a fright he had never known. Standing there, bewildered and strange, was a slender, pale girl who resembled himself in every way except in gender, and he supposed that if he had a sister, this was what she would look like. Her hair was black and straight, trailing down to her waist, her face small and oval with soft angles and large, green eyes. The mouth was slightly opened, as if in shock, and it opened even wider as he realized whose reflection it was staring back at him.

Horrified, he rushed out of the bathroom to find that textbook. How does one undo the spell? It was the day before school began; he couldn't go to school in this form. Loki vaguely remembered that when he had fallen into the pond his fingers had pointed towards himself, and cursed heavily at Thor for being the cause of all this.

Finally, he managed to flip to the desired page. Skimming hurriedly over the words, he finally found the passage about its effects:

… _This spell must be used with the utmost caution, and should be used sparingly, for the effects are nearly impossible to reverse. The spell will last for a whole week, during which nothing can be done to lift the magic, so please review your intentions most thoroughly before you cast it…_

A week. An entire week.

But the worst was yet to come. Loki continued reading.

_...further emphasis on caution must be given in that under this spell, one may have little or no ability in magic, severely weakening the user in duels or in events where self-defense is essential..._

Loki wanted to go to Thor this instant, strip him of his flesh, bash his eyes out with rocks, and knock him senseless with all the forbidden spells he could think of. He hated him. He hated him so much the world began to shake, and he swore with such rotten fervor he was surprised the air didn't turn pungent from the foul words.

What was he going to do? Loki stalked back into the bathroom, and stared at his reflection again. He was a female version of himself. The jeering from the students he'd get if he walked into a classroom with this appearance would kill him, if the embarrassment didn't get to him first. What the hell could he do?

An idea formed in his mind. It wasn't a good plan, but it would do.

For a week, he'll go to school as an imaginary sister, filling in for a brother who was on an educational trip to the city of Midgard. For a week, he'll have to learn independence from magic. He couldn't ask for a week of absence; the Asgard principal, that kind fool, having nothing better to do in the rather small school, would hunt for absent students himself and pay personal visits to them to give them kind but absolutely unnecessary wishes. Loki had to go to school to avoid this problem. He'll have to play around with the school records a little, but that he can do. He wasn't the smartest kid in Asgard for nothing.

He hated Thor, but what happened had happened, and what else could he do but adapt? Loki swore to himself that he would have revenge one day.

* * *

_First chapter finished. I really hoped you enjoyed your time reading it. Please let me know how you felt! Thank you!_


	2. Unexpected Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor and Fandral meets gender-bent Loki.

_In the school records, a male student named Loki Laufeyson received permission to take a leave of absence for a week, while the sister of the student, Astrid Laufeyson, entered as a temporary student to substitute for her brother during the time he would be away._

* * *

Loki stepped into the classroom, head slightly bowed, nervous that someone might guess who he truly was, though he knew that such a thing wasn't possible; this sort of magic belonged to a level too high above those in his class. Professor Heimdallr stood beside his desk, staring with his usual tacit and stern manner at the whispering class as he waited for the new student to approach.

"Class," he rumbled, and the students immediately fell silent at his soft, yet forceful voice. "Class," he repeated, "this here is a new student to our school. Her name is Astrid Laufeyson, and she will be staying here for a week to fill in for her brother. Please treat her with kindness."

Then he turned to Loki. "Please be seated over there," he said, and pointed to a seat near the windows.

As he walked, Loki felt disconcerted to feel so many eyes on himself. Head down, trying wordlessly to convince the students that he was of no worthwhile attention, he walked to the designated seat, and sat down to open his books. Now that he had joined the body of students and become one of them, the class turned its attention back to the front where Prof. Heimdallr began his lesson on History.

Loki began taking notes. At once, he noticed the disadvantages of being a girl. First, having a slighter figure than his original body, he had to strain his neck more to see the board. Second, the long black hair obstructed his view every bloody time he looked down to take notes, and he was furious after the first fifteen minutes of pushing the stubborn thing back every few seconds. He made a note to himself to buy some elastic bands next time he went shopping.

Half an hour later, his mood was downright foul. Prof. Heimdallr exited the classroom for a five minute break, and the class as a result erupted into conversation. Loki sat back, detached from it all because he was a new student, and reread his notes, not expecting anyone to talk to him. After all, he was "Loki's sister", and people stayed away from him.

"Hey. What's your name again?" said a voice beside me. It sounded disturbingly familiar, and he turned. He stared, in shock, at Thor.

How could he have missed his desk partner?

Thor smiled. "Hi, I'm Thor."

Loki recovered, and replied. "H-hi, I'm Lo - er, Astrid." Smiling too, and he hoped Thor wouldn't notice how strained it was as he tried to hold back his repulsion.

"How do you like this school?"

"It's…fine, I think."

"Where is your brother?"

Loki wondered at his interest. His wonder didn't go far, though; he remembered how much of a playboy Thor was, and understood that he simply liked girls.

"He's on a trip. In Midgard for educational purposes," Loki finally said.

"When will he be back?"

"Um…in a week or so," he answered.

"Oh. Then do you two - oh hey, watch out." Thor suddenly reached out and pulled Loki's shoulder in towards him. His touch made Loki's hair rise on its ends, and Loki was about to shove him away with all his might, swear words forming at the tip of his tongue, when he turned and saw one of his classmates - his name was Fandral - walking by swinging a scissor rather carelessly in the air.

"Hey, Fandral," called Thor sternly. He still had his arm curled tightly around Loki. Poor Loki's other shoulder was pressed against his chest, and he began to feel quite uncomfortable. Of course Loki was grudgingly thankful of Thor's actions and did not show blatant ingratitude by shoving him away, but being held so closely by your worst enemy? Not the most joyful of situations.

"Yeah?" Fandral called back, midstride.

"Watch where you swing that thing. You almost hit her," he said, nodding at Loki.

Fandral took a look at the new student. Loki looked back at him, and noticed how pale the grey irises of his eyes were. They almost looked transparent, and seemed to have no depth. Loki's examination was interrupted as Fandral suddenly smiled at him, and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you?"

"O-oh, no, it's fine, it's fine," Loki said quickly. This one seemed quite nice, and since Loki knew that even if Fandral had hit him it would have been an accident, he didn't mind at all, and wanted Fandral not to feel guilty in any way.

"You're the new girl, right?" He asked.

Loki nodded.

"Nice to meet ya…Astrid, is it? I'm Fandral." He stuck out his hand. Loki tried to lift his arm as well to reciprocate the friendly gesture. However, he had forgotten that Thor still had his arm around him, and couldn't move a single muscle. Loki glared at him, wondering what on earth was up. Thor's brow was furrowed, his expression one of annoyance and, strangely enough, worry, and after a few moments he glanced at Loki and let go.

Loki, sore, leaned away from him, nursing his recently imprisoned shoulder, and stuck his hand in Fandral's still outstretched palm. They shook.

Suddenly, Fandral brought Loki's hand towards his mouth, and kissed the back of it.

"Stop fooling around," growled Thor. For some reason Loki couldn't comprehend, Thor looked mad as hell. For Loki, though, it was fine; the gesture didn't upset him, since they believed he was a girl and he knew that the gesture wasn't directed towards the real him, Loki. Fandral was just paying his respects to his imaginary female guise.

Fandral grinned and waved a cheerful farewell before walking away. Thor glared at his back.

Loki wasn't aware they had any friction between them, since Thor was favoured by virtually everyone he came into contact with, so Loki asked, "Why do you not like him?"

He wouldn't meet Loki's eyes. "I just don't. Something about him pisses me off."

"Oh?"

Thor looked at Loki searchingly, as if attempting to read his mind. Then he said, "Nothing. Don't worry about it." Thor seemed reluctant to continue, and since Loki didn't care all that much about it, they both left it at that.

The rest of the day passed away in a relatively calm manner. The professors taught the classes as they always did, and once in a while in the breaks between classes Thor would speak to him about conversational topics, to his utter annoyance. Fandral also came by a few times to make light talk, though much to the mysterious dismay of Thor. Everything went as they normally did when Loki was still "Loki", with the exception of being more acquainted with Thor and Fandral. He was thinking,  _Hey, this is pretty normal. If I could get through a week like this, I'm not complaining._

Then something happened after school.


	3. Thor's Shock Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor meets Loki.

In walked the most beautiful girl he had ever set his eyes on.

He looked away, shocked at himself. But he couldn't help it; like a bee to pollen, his eyes strayed back to the slim figure, and the slight hunch that spoke of shyness, the baggy clothes that hid graceful, slender curves, and the pursed lips that indicated anxiety. She was beautiful, but a girl who was evidently hard to touch. He saw that many of his male classmates were also looking at the new girl, and felt a spark of irritation.

He caught himself again. He had never felt genuine interest for anyone, except one, and he had promised himself he would never, ever allow another to replace that one love, even though - and it deeply pained him to acknowledge this - even though that one love could never be reciprocated. There was an insurmountable wall between him and the one he loved. But Thor was an honourable man; he would only have one true love, even if he were to die alone. This was why, even though he was often surrounded by the prettier girls of the school, and sought their company, and played with them for a while, he would allow his relationship with them to grow only to a certain point and then absolutely forbid anything further. It was  _because_  he had not an inkling of hope of touching the heart of his one true love that he distracts himself from the unhappy truth by drowning himself in the company of a variety of girls, immediately changing from one to another lest boredom should remind him that none of it was what he truly wanted. Most of the girls he flung off had called him cold, but they would return to him as platonic friends, drawn by his irresistible charm and the nostalgia of once being the target of his affections. Some others, however, had nearly saw through him, one observing casually but shrewdly that his heart, if carefully analyzed, belonged not where he showed it to be.

Still, Thor couldn't let anyone know who he truly loved.

But if that were the case, what was he feeling for this new girl? Thor was annoyed at himself, though he couldn't help feeling fascination for her. She was the first to unbalance the solid love he had had for eight years.

She walked up towards the empty desk beside him. Her eyes were cast down, looking quite nervous and stiff, as if afraid of being bullied. Thor wanted to embrace and reassure her, and he wanted to look at her eyes. Eyes told the most about a person's core, and for Thor they were the keys to his knowing whether the person was worth knowing or not. It had been two brilliant eyes that had irrevocably captured his heart for his one true love. Thor wanted to see this new girl's eyes because he hoped it would quell his feelings of interest - he had yet to come across two eyes as mesmerizing as  _that_  person's eyes.

Astrid - that was her name - sat down. Thor heard whispers of envy among some of the boys, but dismissed them. He looked at her, who didn't seem to notice him at all. Then he addressed her, hoping for her eyes to direct themselves to his.

"Hey. What's your name again?" he asked.

She looked up. Her waterfall of rippling chestnut hair fell aside and for the first time since she walked into the class Thor had a full view of her face.

It was startling. Small, pale, delicate and feminine, and so fragile that a slight caress might hurt her. So pale that snow yellowed next to her skin. A nose with a slope so utterly perfect. Small, thin lips that spoke of intelligence, complemented by a smooth forehead. But all those features dulled in comparison to her  _eyes_. Large, clear, emerald, moist, like raw jewels found deep within a mountain that whispered of many a secret and wonder.

_They were just like Loki's._


	4. A Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor saves Loki's life and Loki's got a new thing to worry about.

The bell rang. Loki packed his stuff up to go home. The sky rumbled darkly, the clouds all thick and murky grey, as if bloated with an ocean's worth of rain. He pulled up his hood and was halfway through the door when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Hey," said Thor.

Loki didn't restrain himself from pulling a face at his presence. If Thor noticed, he didn't show it. "Which way are you walking home?"

He pointed in the general direction of his house, throwing a vague wave to imply a reluctance to release too much information and that he needed no one to walk him home.

"Let me walk you home. I live that way too," Thor said brightly, completely ignoring the hint.

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically, and started walking rapidly away from him. If he still didn't get the hint, well, then Loki will blast his true feelings straight to that slaphappy face.

Unsurprisingly, Thor began to follow him. "Hey wait!" he called. Loki walked faster, his head down to protect his forehead against the rain, but Thor's well-built body easily caught up to his much slighter one, and he strode lazily next to him while Loki began to sweat from the exertion. But because Loki's level of tolerance for his presence holds for less than half a nanosecond on even the best of days, he still tried to increase the distance between the two of them despite his lack of strength. Thor, of course, was oblivious to his progressively fouler mood while droning on and on about himself and with questions that Loki gave brusque answers to. When they reached a major intersection, he finally saw his chance. The light for pedestrian crossing had been green for quite a while, and if he made a dash for it, he might be able to cross it just before it turns red on Thor.

When they were close enough, he suddenly turned to Thor and said, "Well, see you around!"

Then the light turned red. Loki was only halfway across, and there was a car heading straight towards him.

"No! Watch out!" He heard Thor yell. Everything happened too fast after that. Loki remembered a body slamming into his own. An enormous wave of water splashing over them. Honking. Swearing. Getting drenched and his hood falling off. Falling forward into warm clothes.

When his senses returned, the first thing he noticed was how immobile he was. All sides of his body were tightly constricted by what he slowly came to realize were arms and a broad chest, into which his face was snugly buried. Next Loki heard a heavy breathing in his ear, with regular puffs of breath warming his earlobe. Then memories of the past two minutes flooded back to him, and he knew that it was Thor who had saved him from a bloody death.

Loki squirmed to push away, but to no avail. He felt embarrassed beyond belief; his effort to get away from Thor only brought him that much closer to him!

"Why do you hate me so much?" Thor suddenly asked. His voice, being so close to Loki's ear, was amplified, and he could make out the smallest tone of sadness. Surprised, Loki stopped squirming. "Do you hate me so much to want to die?"

That wasn't true. Though Loki hated him, he wouldn't risk his life to stay loyal to his hatred. He actually felt grudgingly thankful, again, and so he shook his head - or tried to, in the tight embrace, which Thor still didn't release - and mumbled, "No, I was just…just…"

Thor released his grip and looked at him. "You're drenched," he said.

Loki felt his head, and found that indeed, the hood had fallen off during that moment, and a giant splash of water from the screeching tires of the angry car had left him soaking wet.

"Don't move," he said. "You've got a bit of dirt on your face." Loki watched as he extended a dry sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe Loki's face with a very gentle hand. Loki took this opportunity to study Thor's face.

His eyes were blue. Really, really, clear and blue. They twinkled, even in this somber weather, with a light that danced like sunlight on the ocean, and the irises seemed to hold an entire marine world in themselves. He had a long and sculpted nose that stood nobly over a strong jaw, and healthy bronze skin pulled tightly and attractively over his muscles and jaw line. Two strong brows were furrowed while he concentrated on wiping off the dirt from Loki's face, and as the latter studied his serious expression Loki's heart gave a strange thud, and he became embarrassed for a mysterious reason. And was it his imagination that Thor's face seemed to be getting nearer and nearer...?

Loki pushed Thor's hand away. "It's okay. I'm all right now."

Thor continued looking at Loki, and gave Loki's cheek one last dab. "All right."

They stepped away from each other awkwardly. Loki didn't know what to say, but it didn't seem right to just walk away without some words. Finally, Thor saved the moment. "Well, then, I'll…see you tomorrow."

Loki nodded. "Bye. And…thank you."

He smiled and waved before turning the other direction.

Loki walked home slowly, his mind in such a jumble of confusion that it could form no coherent thought. What it could form, however, and with annoying perfection, was Thor's face. It seemed stamped in his mind, and the more he tried to erase it, the more clarity it gained. Even as he reached home and got ready for a hot shower to wash his soaked hair, Loki couldn't get the moment out of his head. Thor had looked so concerned and sad. Loki put his hands on the part of his cheek where Thor had run his sleeve over, where Thor's touch had left a burning, throbbing echo. Loki wondered what was wrong with himself. He couldn't forget Thor's face.


	5. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor and Loki talk and Loki has a revelation

**THOR**

Thor felt more and more confused. This was the most confusing situation of his life.

He'd played around with many, many girls - cute, plain, sexy, boring - but none of them had as much spunk as this new girl, and none of them took this long to charm, this hard to get. The other problem was that she reminded him too much of the one he could never touch, and Thor suspected that perhaps the strength of his charm faded a little  _because_  they were so alike. Their similarity because they were siblings might be unnerving him; it was the first time he was so close to the one he had loved for so long. Maybe he was even nervous.

He didn't understand why Astrid kept brushing him off without any attempt at courtesy. At first Thor thought it was due to shyness, since for a lot of girls shyness could be mistaken as coldness, but usually the shyness sloughed off as time went by if he proactively sought their company. Astrid's coldness, however, was not shyness. Thor tried to ignore it, believing he'd soon be able to open her up, but he couldn't hold his feelings in any longer that time he had walked her home. She nearly got hit by a car running away from him! If it had been any other girl, he wouldn't have minded; there were many other girls he could hunt next. But, somehow, because it was Astrid, his love's lookalike, it stung. Badly.

So badly that Thor even had to ask directly. "Why do you hate me so much?" he had wondered while Astrid was in his embrace. It was the best moment to ask the question; he didn't have to look at her face if the answer was...unpleasant. He couldn't imagine what it could be, which was exactly why he was afraid to ask. Usually girls minds were open books to him, written all in the same, simple formula. This one was in a different language.

When Astrid had answered, "No," the relief was so strong it translated into the physical, and his embrace fell away as per his anxiety.

Then Thor made the mistake of getting too close to her face.

As if seeing those brilliant eyes once wasn't enough already. As if he hadn't fallen far enough already. He felt himself already in danger of falling for her, while his heart still belonged to another, and Thor knew if he allowed his heart to belong to two, the tension would kill him. But they were too alike. While he wiped her face, he saw the same fragility, the same mysterious fire, the same intelligence he had saw and loved in  _him_. At last, so close, yet so far. Up close, with the rain pouring down on her hair, trailing down her porcelain skin in silver rivulets, she, with her hair slicked back, could almost be mistaken as Loki. For a brief moment Thor actually did believe it was Loki, staring back at him.

He was quite glad she had pushed him away after a while. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself. Thor thought he'd even have kissed her if she hadn't stopped him.

That night, Thor wanted to bash his head into the brick wall behind his house and drive some of his old, flippant self back into his senses. Since when did he become seriously flustered for a girl? The one thing on which part of his pride grew was his immunity to becoming struck and bogged down by stupid  _feelings_  due to breakups and other melodrama that "real" couples go through. His heart, however, was tied to a dream impossible to realize, and therefore safe from pain.

But now...now he was struck.

It was a stupid thing to get hung up over, he knew. If he actually was able to fall in love with her and completely forget about Loki, he would do just that without much of a thought. The problem here, however, was that somehow, he wanted  _both_  at the same time; he just couldn't let Loki go. He wouldn't, after all those years, and he suspected that even if he tried, those feelings, having been so long his company, would not go quietly. Even though he was a player, Thor knew that such a state of emotional ambivalence was immoral, and he would not stoop so low. Stories where a person loved everyone at the same time always ended in tragedies for the naive hero. He also considered the fact that she probably wouldn't want to share his love.

Sharing love...

The image of that sneering, shallow, sly Fandral suddenly popped into his mind. He remember with irritating clarity how Astrid had looked at Fandral, her eyes all bright with surprise, interest and placid fascination, with none of that barely hidden annoyance she unreasonably had for Thor. Jealousy burned fierce and deep within his chest. That guy. Now there was a  _real_  player. At least Thor didn't pretend to be serious with his girls; they all knew sooner or later they had to move on. Fandral, however, was a wanted criminal who dealt solely in the true ruin of innocent girls' hearts. Thor couldn't let Astrid fall into those merciless jaws.

Thor smacked himself again. Over and over, he had to remind himself that he liked her only because she reminded him of Loki. She wasn't Loki. It was unfair to her if love between them became mutual, with hers being genuine but his founded only on her appearance.

But then again, she was  _so much_  like him...

* * *

**LOKI**

Next morning he was smarter. Knowing that all girls needed an extensive amount of time before going to school, Loki woke early, and went into the bathroom to solve the problem of his distractingly long hair. He thought about cutting it, but it would gain him unfavourable attention. He thought about tying it up into a ponytail, but the endeavour proved to be so difficult he gave up with sore arms and much loss of time without any improvement on the hair. If he had magic right now, this would not be a problem. At last, he decided to braid it. Weaving three locks in and out as he had seen some girls do before, down his side, He finally came out of the bathroom, proud of the black snake hanging down over his chest, nicely stiff and controllable.

One day gone. Six more to go, he thought to himself. He could do this.

Seeing that he was dangerously lacking time, because of his hair, Loki hastily threw on "Loki's" clothing - he made a mental note to go buy some female clothing soon - and, grabbing his pack, ran to school. He was not late, fortunately, and arrived at school with some minutes to spare.

Through the unspoken rule that all students obey, Loki automatically walked towards the seat he had taken yesterday. He was already touching the desk to sit down when he remembered who his neighbor was, and by then it was too late to change seats without blatantly showing how much repulsion he had for Thor. A vague thought suddenly fluttered by him -  _why do I care so much about what Thor thinks?_ \- and then disappeared.

So Loki sat down, resigned.

"You feeling okay?" was Thor's greeting.

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Good to hear it."

Loki felt Thor's eyes on him, and was suddenly, irritatingly, though unstoppably, aware of his presence, the proximity of his arms, and how the hastily made braid might look to him. Loki felt quite stiff, as if not knowing what to do, and almost afraid that whatever he might do would portray him as an idiot. Loki  _felt_  like an idiot already being so conscious of Thor. Was stupidity a side-effect of this spell? A strange pressure began squeezing blood into his cheeks, and he burned all the more ferociously as he wondered what Thor would make of this unexplainable blush. What the hell was wrong with him?

"New hairstyle?" he asked.

Loki met his eyes briefly, and then embarrassment forced his glance away. "Y-yeah. Hair was distracting me."

"Looks good on you, Astrid," he smiled, leaning on one hand, still staring at Loki.

Immediately he was overtaken with irritation. Like every damn thing he'd been feeling today, he couldn't explain why he suddenly felt so annoyed and depressed by that comment. "No it doesn't. Whatever," he replied sharply. Then he immediately regretted his brusqueness.

Loki didn't have time for an apology, for right then Prof. Heimdallr entered and began the class. They didn't have a chance for conversation during the class, thankfully, but he disliked the guilt staining his conscience and wanted to remove it.

Then came class break. While everyone else jabbered away, silence dominated the air between the two, and though Loki wanted badly to beat it away, as a socially disabled he hadn't a clue how. So there they sat, Loki glumly pretending to look over his notes, once in a while feeling Thor's eyes on him.

Suddenly Thor spoke. "Sorry."

Loki looked up, surprised. "For what?"

"For…aren't you mad at me?" His blue eyes twinkled puzzlingly.

"I'm…no. No, I'm not. I should apologize for being so rude."  
His face went blank for a moment, then a relieved smile shone over his face. "It's all right, Astrid," he said, and lifted up a hand to brush away a lock of hair that had come loose and dangled in front of Loki's eyes. As his skin stroked Loki's cheeks, Loki's heart gave another strange thud and he looked away quickly lest Thor should see that cursed flood of colour was taking over his face.

 _This guy…what was he doing to me?_  wondered Loki.  _My emotions are a mess._

"Are those Loki's clothes?" he asked.

For a minute, the question startled him utterly, because for a moment he forgot he was posing as an imaginary sister. He must have looked like a drowning fish, if there were such a thing, his mouth opening and shutting like he wasn't getting enough air. Then he finally remembered that he was Astrid, and hoped Thor hadn't noticed his brief confusion. "Er, yeah, these are his clothes."

"Are you two very close?" Thor wondered aloud.

"Somewhat…" Loki replied uncertainly. How should he play it? Were they close siblings? Estranged?"

"Then do you know why Loki hates me so much?"

He was taken aback. Loki never knew his hatred had been important enough for his notice, so snobbish Thor unsurprisingly was being the boy idol of the school. He never paid a single iota of attention to Loki, except maybe to taunt him once in a while for being a nerd, and so this question, which implied that Loki's hatred towards him affected him a little, seemed completely contradictory to the personality Loki had known him to have.

Or maybe it was just that Thor couldn't stand attracting anything but admiration. Yeah, that seemed more likely.

"Perhaps because you don't seem to like studying so much?" He answered without giving away too much of the relationship between Astrid and himself.

Thor mulled over the answer, looking quite thoughtful. "Perhaps," he said.

"Why do you care?" Loki hazarded.

"Well…because I'd like to know him, I think. He seems such an…interesting fellow." Thor drew his gaze, which had been directed out the window, to Loki's eyes, smiling tenderly. Once again his heart fluttered, and he turned away.

What a way to play with girls by attacking topics close to them, thought Loki, silently laughing at Thor for being so confident and wrong about his flirting methods. Nevertheless, he was still shaken a little by Thor's unwavering eye contact. "F-from what I've heard my brother say about you, he doesn't think you notice him at all," he said to his desk.

"Does he? Probably. We don't really talk, after all." Thor sounded a little depressed.

Loki nodded, confused.

"You're quite lucky to be his sister, aren't you? Related to the smartest guy in the school and all," he said. "And - what are you doing? You'll mess up your hair!" He exclaimed.

Thor put his hands on Loki's to stop what they had been doing. Sometime during the conversation Loki had unconsciously developed the habit of running his fingers up and down the bumpy texture of his braid, the speed depending on his state of mind. As he had been becoming progressively more nervous, his fingers had been running progressively faster, until several strands of hair had come loose. Thor gently pried his hands away from his hair. "I like it. Don't ruin it."

Before Loki could feel another bout of unexplainable embarrassment, Prof. Heimdallr resumed the class.

Loki couldn't concentrate on the lesson. His mind kept wandering towards Thor's words, gestures, and his surprisingly different personality compared to what he had thought it was, and Loki's eyes kept straying to those broad hands that touched him. The thing that most unsettled him was that the burn on his cheek seemed to be caused by the gaze Thor continuously gave him. The two bright blue eyes emanated invisible rays of heat directly onto Loki's cheeks as Loki saw from the periphery of his eyes while concentrating on - at least,  _trying_ to concentrate - on the prof's lesson. Thor gazed at him from the side for so long that Loki's perturbation and curiosity finally won.

Loki turned to him at last, letting annoyance show on his face. "What is it?" he demanded.

Thor looked innocent. "What is what?"

"Is there something wrong with me that you've been looking at for so long?"

"Oh." For a fleeting moment Thor looked grave and seriously confused. He quickly recovered, however, so Loki half-believed that expression of bewilderment may have just been his imagination as the broad blonde face returned to its original charming smile. "Nothing. What is wrong with looking at a beautiful girl?" he answered with a rhetorical question, a rather dreamy look glazing over his face.

Loki nearly snorted aloud. "Never heard of anything so cheesy in my life," he muttered back, rolling his eyes. Thor sounded as though he was in love with Loki - no, Astrid. Haha! How ridiculous.

Wait.

Love?

...

No, that was impossible.  _Beyond_  impossible, if that was possible. This time Loki did snort aloud. Some glances were shot his way, full of surprise and irritation and disgusted shock that such an unbecoming sound was scratched out so unreservedly from a girl's throat. Loki returned their looks with a nervous, apologetic one of his own.

Thor in love with  _him -_  no,  _her_?

Mild insanity  _must_  be one of the side-effects of this crazy spell.


	6. A New Partner

Next day, Loki made his usual way to school, through the halls, into the classroom and to his desk. The routine, however, was broken by encountering an unknown presence sitting in his seat. A tall dark girl, noble of mien, her elegant features enhanced by two sharp eyes and a haughty expression that portrayed a character accustomed to being obeyed without question, sat like a territorial panther in Astrid's chair. Loki could almost imagine a tail swaying behind her as she eyed his approach suspiciously. Quickly, he glanced at Thor sitting next to her, and to his surprise, Thor looked tired and exasperated.

"Hello," said Loki to the girl uncertainly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Yes," she purred, an unkind smile creeping up her sculpted cheeks. "You."

Loki stood there, silent, uncomprehending. What had he done?

"Sif, please," said Thor gently, though a little bit of frustration spilled through his wrongly stressed syllables. "This is Astrid's seat. Go back -"

"Oh, but it's better to sit with  _me_." Her harsh tone made Thor purse his lips and he looked away, the skin under his usually bright eyes tense. Then she turned back to Loki, her eyes narrow with hostility. "Go sit somewhere else, dear. This is now  _my seat._  You've been arrogant enough for two days."

"Sif -" began Thor.

She stopped him by leaning into Thor's torso, pushing her lean, heavily breasted body into Thor's arm, calculated to make him feel the bulging flesh. Gently caressing Thor's muscular arm with a lightly arched wrist, she breathed like a siren into Thor's ear, "Shhh, darling.  _I_ can give you more fun than you've had for the past couple of days." Sif eyed Loki meanly behind Thor's shoulder. Thor was silent, and didn't protest at all.

Loki was disgusted, and partly saddened. He was disgusted at Thor for being so easily wooed by beautiful girls, and saddened because he still didn't completely understand what he had done and because Thor was, in the end, still the shallow player he had known him to be. Embarrassed, Loki was about to turn away to find another seat, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Fandral appeared by his side, his silver eyes illuminated by a moderate smile, unlike Thor's aggressive grin too thickly laden with testosterone and manly charm. "Do you need a seat, young miss?"

Loki smiled a little in relief. "Yes, please."

"I've got an empty one nearby mine. Come." He put his arm around Loki's narrow shoulders and guided the embarrassed new student away from the vixen and her prey. Loki took one last look at Sif, still pushing her female charms onto the frowning but resigned looking Thor, who, surprisingly, did not look as though he were enjoying her presence at all, and seemed desirous to be rid of her. Just a split second before Loki looked away Thor raised his eyes to Loki with the furrowed brows of sadness and distress. Loki was confused as to why Thor could be troubled, but Loki had already looked away, and did not plan on embarrassing himself further by looking back and giving the wrong impression of his wanting to stay in that seat.

Sitting down beside Fandral, Loki arranged his notebooks and stationery in preparation for class. One of his papers came loose and fluttered away from the desk. Loki stretched his arm, unable to use magic to call it back, but he was too late and too far; the paper flew like a frightened bird away from its owner, and landed three rows away.

He got up to retrieve it, but before he put one step the paper suddenly floated up again, twirled twice in the air and gently slid into the outstretched fingers of Loki. He looked up, confused, because he knew he didn't use any magic. Fandral, however, sat smiling nonchalantly at Loki's bewildered expression with two long, thin fingers pointed towards the paper.

"You're welcome," he said.

"Th-thanks," replied Loki belatedly as he sat down. That Fandral was quite skilled in magic quite surprised him. Lifting something so delicate as a paper required much precision in the output of magic energy from one's fingers, let alone making it twirl in the air and sliding it exactly where one wanted it. The gleaming silver eyes and sharp look of Fandral gave Loki a new sense of reverence. Thor, that feather-brained lover-boy, all brawn and no brain, couldn't do that. Perhaps the new seating arrangement was best for both sides.

There was, nonetheless, a very faint, very vague twitch of unpleasantness in the back of his mind.

But before the twitch could be analyzed, a professor strolled into the class and it was soon forgotten.

That day, the class assignment was a co-written essay with a desk partner. Loki breathed a sigh of relief and became even happier that Sif had asked him to sit elsewhere as he realized who it was he could have worked with. Fandral proved to be more than resourceful, able to meld a wide range of information together with prodigious ingenuity and possessing a green thumb for planting the perfect words in the perfect places. During the assignment Loki and Fandral made in-depth conversations about the topic they were studying, a newfound respect swelled in Loki's breast for his new acquaintance. Also, whenever Fandral looked at Loki in the eye, his strange, depthless silver irises piercingly direct, Loki did not feel the uneasiness and anxiety he did under the gazes of Thor. Thor couldn't give him something like that. He felt comfortable around Fandral, who was kinder than Thor, smarter, more comfortable to be around with -

Loki stopped, confused. Why was he always comparing Fandral to Thor, not the other way around? Fandral was a different person.

So he flushed Thor from his mind, and concentrated on his task with Fandral. For the rest of the day, his time was thick with interesting conversation and discussion with Fandral, exchanging clever word plays, finding new information and discovering new levels to the intelligence of his desk partner. It wasn't something he could do with Thor.

There was another slight twitch in his heart.

 


	7. Bad Luck

He was halfway through the week. It was his fourth day of being a girl, and besides knowing Fandral better, there wasn't much he thought he would miss once he returned to his normal form. The half hour spent every morning braiding his long hair would not be mourned; his inability to see over people's heads would not be weeped for; and the sudden attraction of men's attention (there were quite a few who tried to obtain his acquaintance recently) was something he would gladly do without.

Entering the school once again as Astrid, books on one hand, a bag on the other, Loki stepped through the gilded hallways and marble floor, mentally preparing himself for another day. The students around him seemed a little louder and more excited than usual, especially the girls, who chatted gibberish at rocket speed among themselves like baby chicks fighting for food. The boys, although not that much more talkative, had strange grins on their faces, some of embarrassment, others of arrogance. Because Loki didn't belong to any of the groups, he hadn't a single clue as to the cause of all the excitement, and he was too indifferent about it to eavesdrop. Without thinking too much, he entered his classroom.

As he headed towards his new seat besides Fandral, Fandral looked up and beamed a smile. "Yo, Astrid."

"Hi," answered Loki, returning a smile. "Do you know what all the excitement's about outside?"

"Excitement?" Fandral frowned, thinking. "Was there? I wasn't paying attention."  
"Oh."

"I was reading this. It's quite good." Fandral held up a brick of a novel with ruffled edges and crinkled black covers, on which the title _Crime and Punishment_  was etched in golden ink. "Although I find the protagonist too wishy-washy to like."

"Well," said Loki, sitting down beside him, "What could you expect him to do? He murdered someone, and he was probably afraid of the punishment. I think that's reasonable." Loki was impressed once again by Fandral's surprising depth of intelligence;  _Crime and Punishment_ was not a novel for light reading. It required extreme patience and an extensive vocabulary.

"What I don't understand is why he's even contemplating confessing," said Fandral thoughtfully. "No one saw it, no one could possibly trace it to him. It's a perfect crime to walk away from without fears."

"But...isn't that morally wrong?" wondered Loki, puzzled at Fandral's strangely cold comment.

"Sticking with morals don't give you any points in society," he answered, smiling at Loki, "when you've done something irreversible."

Loki pursed his lips, a little disturbed by his way of thinking. Loki thought the protagonist was right in confessing his crime at the very end, because it was the right thing to do and it gave both the reader and the character a healthy peace of mind, but here Fandral was saying that a clean record held more weight than the state of one's conscience. Loki wondered what Thor would have said. Thor would probably -

He kicked himself. He was doing it again.

Why did Thor continually find random places in his mind to appear in? Having thought of him, Loki instinctively looked about for the brawny blonde school idol. There, by the window, staring straight back, were two blazing blue irises framed by long golden lashes.  _Why is he looking at_  me _?_  Loki quickly averted his eyes, and felt an unexplainable blush creeping up his neck.

At that moment, Professor Heimdallr entered the room, and the chatter died away. His enormous stature and unworldly golden eyes as they swept the room commanded the attention of every student. Though no one ever saw him lose his temper, students felt that there was a volcano hidden behind the eternally taciturn expression.

"Class," he rumbled. "I have an announcement to make."

Some students began to chatter excitedly, in the same manner Loki had seen in the students in the morning. But the noise died down suddenly with a slight twitch of Heimdallr's eyebrow, as if choked by that tiny movement.

"Class," he repeated, "As is tradition for Asgard every autumn, we will be holding a ball in three days. It is not a mandatory event you must attend, and there is no fee for it. It is a public event; you may bring anyone you choose to the ball."

Oh, so  _that_  was why the girls were so excited and the boys so nervous.

But Loki was still as nonchalant about it as he had been about the excitement he had encountered in the morning. He wouldn't be caught dead going to such an event, let alone in a dress even if he were a girl, when the time could be spent so much more wisely reviewing notes and enlarging his brain. As the girls giggled, making eyes to the boys they liked, and the boys ahemed-and-ahooed, working up their courage to ask out the girls they admired, the professor for once allowing such a ruckus in the classroom, Loki yawned and read his textbook. He was a nerd, he knew, but it would pay off in the future.

Classes ended that day rather early. He suspected that teachers knew their students were much too excited about the upcoming ball to focus on any lesson. Loki packed up his stuff and headed out alone, seeing that Fandral was engrossed in a conversation with a pal.

His endeavour to return home early failed, however, in bumping into Thor shortly after he exited the classroom.

"Astrid," he said, strangely tense and unhappy, "I need to talk to you." Without asking for his time, he grabbed Loki's hand, albeit gently, and headed towards a corner far from eavesdroppers.

"What?" asked Loki, annoyed.

Thor exhaled and closed his eyes momentarily, as if trying to compose himself. Then he said, "Astrid, are you...do you...what is Fandral to you?"

Suddenly, Loki felt incredibly, unabashedly, unreasonably irritated. "Why does it matter?" It was  _such_  a random question.

"Just tell me." There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice, and somehow, Loki felt touched. He sounded almost as if he cared for him, and that wasn't a terrible thought.

"A friend. A good friend."

Thor sighed again, looking exhausted. Then he stared directly into Loki's eyes, his own blazing with fierce conviction, and he grabbed Loki by the shoulders, his large hands emanating the strength of a bull. "Astrid, don't hang out with that guy. He's not a good person."

Any tender feelings that may have arisen from hearing the note of desperation in Thor's voice immediately faded into nonexistence after hearing him malign a student whose grades were better than his. Unamused, Loki scowled, releasing any reservations about hurting Thor's feelings. He wasn't worth getting concerned over. "And who are you to tell me that? My father? Even he doesn't mind who I befriend." Well, that was because his father had no time for him, but that information didn't have to be mentioned.

"You don't understand," said Thor. Something sad, full of frustration and anxiety, fell briefly across his normally cheerful countenance, like a cloud passing over the sun, casting a short period of gloominess over the earth. "He's...you'll be hurt."

But Loki wouldn't be persuaded out of his decision. Now, it wasn't just Thor's unreasonable request that put him off; his audacity to command what even parents normally shied away from drenched Loki completely in a foul mood. And who was it that pushed him over a week ago and caused his transformation?

"No," said Loki bluntly. "You have  _no right_  telling me what's right or wrong."

"But I  _know_  him better than you -"

"I don't see you spending time with him as I have-"

"Then do you like him?"

"Again, why does it matter if I do?"

"It's just...to me, you are -"

"You can't even give me a proper answer? Why should I listen to someone without credibility -"

"Astrid, the truth is, I lik-"

Just then, Loki felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he gladly turned away from the increasingly hot argument. Although their voices were quiet and quite civil, it still rankled him to a near intolerable degree. "Yes?" he said eagerly to the distraction.

It was Fandral, flashing his silver eyes at Loki, giving no glance to Thor, as if the latter didn't exist. "Hi. You left so fast I didn't have time to ask you. Would you please go out with me to the upcoming ball?"

Loki was so shocked, so surprised, both by Fandral's unexpected presence and proposal, that he could do nothing as his mouth randomly chose one of the two answers to such requests.

"Y-yes."

Fandral smiled. "Thank you, Astrid." He gave Loki a brief hug. "You won't regret choosing me." Then he walked away with a cheerful wave.

Silence. A few minutes passed before he realized the extent of what he had done. He gasped.

What had he done?

For some reason, he turned to Thor, dreading the latter's reaction. But Thor wasn't looking at him; his eyes were cast down onto the floor, an expression of utmost melancholy and pain etched in the lines of his face, which seemed to elongate under the weight of the unfamiliar emotions. Thor looked so frustrated Loki was tempted to rub the dark lines away. It puzzled him exceedingly; he could think of no reason how anything could depress someone with so bright a spirit.

"Thor...?"

Thor looked up but didn't meet his eyes. Then there was a sudden flash of anger across his brows. "You should break that answer off this instance." Then, abruptly, he walked away, leaving Loki alone, confused and angry as well, in the hallway.

Loki closed his eyes as his heart once again began to throb.

He  _hated_  being a girl.

In fact, he didn't think he'd miss anything at all once he returned to being a boy.


	8. Eight Years Ago

Astrid had  _no reason_  to like Fandral.  _None._  Thor fumed. Anyone could see from Fandral's dull, shallow eyes and his sly way of talking the ugly personality that lurked just behind his fox-like face. Thor knew, from all the girls who came crying to him, how Fandral played with and tossed away pretty girls like a spoiled kid playing dolls. Rumours concerning his terrible behaviour had spread about, but there were still many victims.

Most of Fandral's victims were those who just wanted a fling with someone, but ended up falling deeply for his charms. Thor didn't believe Astrid was the type who hunted men for a fling. Somehow, he just knew her to be a frank, sincere person, a person whose loyalty, once gotten, would never waver; quiet, bookish, hard-to-get girls like Astrid usually promised strong, steady relationships.

Relationships? Thor cursed himself. He was absolutely despicable; he himself never kept any, so why should he talk so? Searching within himself, he still found a full reserve of love for Loki. The amount didn't diminish with the appearance of Astrid. Perhaps he loved Astrid because she reminded him of the thin, bookish boy he'd desperately fallen for eight years ago?

Eight years ago...

* * *

He was ten. He was playing ball with a couple of his friends in the big green field next to his house. Thor had created a game which perfectly allowed him to show off his physical strength. His friends could do nothing but follow, full of admiration for their proud, skilled leader. They were kicking a makeshift ball, made of leather stuffed with hay, to one another, and the one who could kick the farthest and make the next person run the most would be the winner.

It was a pretty childish game. But they were children.

During one of the kicks, Hogun poured as much energy as he could expend to show off to Thor. It flew quite far, and Thor, spiked with adrenaline at the thought of possible competition, ran towards the brown object like a jaguar, and grass and flowers bent sideways to make way for the young athlete. Dirt flew up to cheer him on. Dandelion fluff whizzed around excitedly. After a short while he finally reached the ball, and with a mighty swing of his calf he torpedoed the poor bruised fellow a mile into the blue sky, through five clouds, frightening migrating birds, down the air, into...into somewhere deep inside the forest.

"I'm not going in  _there_ ," said Volstagg with immovable conviction.

So Thor had to go, partly because  _he_  had kicked it, partly because he was the leader, and partly because he just wanted to show them what a bunch of wimps they were. They were adamant about avoiding the thick dark forest of mysterious creatures and strange nocturnal sounds. Thor, though a little scared, didn't show it, and marched bravely into the clutches of the gnarled trees.

The ball hadn't fallen too far. Thor pushed past enormous leaves and trudged through thick clusters of wild bushes in the vague direction of where he had seen the ball land. He traipsed for several minutes before he caught sight of the rather deformed ball stuck in a crevice at the top of a little cave, its yellow hay-guts spilling out in sad clumps. The cave was located at the bottom of a shallow but sharp ravine, and Thor inched himself cautiously down the loose dirt, fingers outstretched towards his object, willing his arm to grow a tad longer. It was a slow process.

At last, he reached it. He stood on his tipsy-toes near the bottom of the ravine's slope, straining his calves tight, and his fingertips scraped the surface of the tattered brown leather. Pinching his two forefingers together, he managed to obtain a tiny edge of a broken flap of leather. Deeming it sufficient, he tugged. It took several tugs to loose the ball - if it can still be called that - from the jaws of stone. However, on the final tug, he exerted more force than was necessary, and the excess caused his foot to slip from its position and he tumbled down, bashing into rocks, falling over the remaining bit of the slope into the cave at the bottom.

Dizzy and numb, he groaned back his senses as he propped himself into an upright position. Thank the gods he still had the ball in his hand to validate his feat to his friends. All he had to do now was to climb out. He looked up the steep slop, slightly daunted.

Then, a quiet, inhuman noise sounded within the black recesses of the cave. Thor turned around, unnerved. The absolute darkness that painted the innards of the cave revealed nothing, and Thor waited, hardly breathing in fear.

Suddenly, a pair of yellow eyes flashed open above him. Thor started, slowly backing away from the floating orbs, but they enlarged as they followed him towards of the opening of the cave. Soon the creature ventured beyond the tangible blackness of the cave where a few rays of sunlight that escaped through the emerald canopy of the forest bathed it into visibility, and Thor saw with terror that a monstrous bear loomed hungrily over him. It was at least twice his size, with crooked fur clumped in dark red patches in various places, enormous paws that gave way to wickedly long claws, a salivating tongue that hung over yellowed and browned teeth, and eyes that emanated a deadly hunger no living creature probably ever escaped. It snarled, spraying viscous saliva everywhere. Its crinkled snout gave Thor a fright he had never known.

It took him a few seconds to find his voice. Once he did, Thor screamed at the very top of his lungs for help and began to scramble as fast as he could up the ravine, completely indifferent now to how unmanly or undignified his high-pitched shouts sounded. Animal instincts conquered his senses and all he was focused on was survival. He couldn't - wouldn't - imagine himself a wad of pink flesh inside that crooked jaw; he had to climb up, he had to find footholds in the dirt, the falling dirt...he was slipping again...the bear was getting closer...he could see the glint of teeth...the swipe of the paw was an inch away from his head...could no one hear his screams...?...

A blinding flash of white light shot over his head into the eyes of the monster. A piercing shriek escaped from the throat of the bear and it stumbled backwards, apparently unable to see. It crashed clumsily into the rocks and then into the cave, where the bear's incredible weight, after colliding with the wall, cracked the stone and the entire cave collapsed onto the writhing monster.

Thor, midway up the slope of the ravine, his hands buried deep within the loose dirt, looked up to see who his saviour was. A thin figure whose face he couldn't yet see, because of the distance, stood at the edge. He - or she - extended another beam of white light towards Thor.

"Hold onto this," said a young boy's voice.

Without questioning his saviour, he tentatively touched the beam, skeptical that he could "hold onto" it. Its tangibility and inviting warmth surprised him, and happily he grabbed on as it began to pull him up.

Once at the top, he properly examined the boy who had saved him. And he was more than pleasantly surprised.

Much smaller and thinner than him, embodying a fragility rarely found even in the most delicate of girls, the young boy stood anxiously before him with a genuine look of concern etched in his exquisite features. His narrow shoulders were tense with worry, and they sloped gently up to a long slender neck, the skin fair as milk. Upon the narrow neck was a heart-shaped face, and Thor was amazed that anyone so beautiful and delicate could exist in this world. Porcelain skin, paler than snow, wrapped over a thin pair of cherry-blossom-petal-lips, sloping up a straight, symmetrical nose and caving in around two wide, breathtakingly emerald irises, more vibrant than the leaves of the trees around them. They were fringed by long, ebony lashes, and spoke of intelligence, sincerity, innocence and mystery.

And Thor was utterly, undoubtedly, irreversibly enchanted. It was a spell from which he would never escape, a spell that would become a permanent part of him.

"Are you all right?" asked the boy timidly.

Thor blinked and then blushed. "Y-yes."

"Oh, good." The boy smiled, his dimples dancing, and began to turn away. "Well, be careful next time -"

"Wait!" said Thor suddenly. "Um...what is your name?"

"Loki," the boy replied, smiling pleasantly. Thor wanted to touch the delicate face. "What's yours?"

Before Thor could answer, he heard his friends hollering his name with anxiety in the distance. They were calling with such desperate terror that Loki said, "Well, I best get going. We might meet again. Take care!" With a casual wave of his small hand, the small boy disappeared into the leaves of the forest.

Even when he finally emerged from the forest into the arms of his joyful friends, he couldn't get the image of Loki, his fragile saviour, out of his head. So beautiful...

But Loki was a  _boy,_  and therefore it would never work out.

* * *

Did Thor like Astrid because she reminded him of Loki?

If that was true, then Thor had no right to tell Astrid who to and who not to talk to. Even though it tore his guts apart to recall that she had accepted Fandral's request right in front of him. If she, of the loyal type, reciprocated Thor's feelings, he would not only end up hurting her because it was not truly  _her_  that he liked, but end all possibilities of ever getting to know  _him_.

Before Thor thoroughly understood his own feelings, he decided that he would avoid her company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly pissed off that I managed to somehow accidentally delete two entire chapters... and, well, lost a bunch of precious comments in the process. But anyway, hope you enjoy the latest chapter. :)


	9. Confusion and Sadness

Perhaps he was too harsh?

Loki had spent the whole night pondering about his relationship with Thor. It was more difficult than rocket science because at least in rocket science the answer could be logically derived from a series of clear-cut formulae and steps. Relationships involved feelings, and feelings could never be defined as logical. Loki couldn't even formulate what his first equation would be. He did try, though.

His main variable was  _x_ , which represented what their relationship was. There were no numbers with which he could create with  _x_  a formula he could solve, so he had to use other variables. Therefore, let:  _m_  be why Thor cared so deeply about his friendship with Fandral;  _n_  be why Thor made his heart deviate from its regular pattern of beating every time he was near;  _p_  be why Thor had given his heart splinters with that look of utter sadness;  _q_  be Thor's abnormally high level of interest in him;  _y_ be the amount of hatred Loki had for Thor, which, strangely, seemed to be diminishing lately;  _z_  be the...be...

No, it was impossible. There were too many variables to keep track of, and possibly more of which he didn't know existed. No formula could be conjured and then solved when more than one variable was unknown, let alone with variables that weren't accounted for. Loki had to find some other means of solving this problem. Perhaps by logical deduction?

Let one begin with the last event between Thor and Loki. Thor had asked Loki to stop talking to Fandral. Loki retaliated by accidentally accepting Fandral in front of him. This led to Thor being hurt. Consequently, Thor's hurt had led to Loki's current agony. Loki was agonized because he knew he had been too rude for any proper excuse. However, Loki had hated him, so why was he now so aware of Thor's feelings? Some feeling of care for Thor must then be involved. This care must have a source, and the most likely one was Thor's persistent attention towards him. There were two possibilities of the cause for Thor's attention. One was that Thor was simply a player. But players did not chase after a single girl so persistently, let alone become provoked because of competition; players were called players because they played with people's emotions and, by definition, were "not serious". Therefore, there was only one other possibility. Thor was persistent and had gotten quite angry at competition, which were the opposite of what a player would do. Therefore he was the opposite of a player. And if Thor was the opposite of a player, then he was the opposite of "not serious". And the opposite of "not serious" was "serious". And serious meant...

No.

Loki laughed nervously. Perhaps logical deduction didn't work either. It must be flawed, for the answer made no sense, even if the steps leading to it did.

But no matter how many other deductions, formulae, equations, etc. he made, logical or illogical, he always arrived at the same conclusion. Again and again. It was not because he knew that the answer was wrong that he repeated his calculations and logical meanderings, but that he was afraid of accepting it.

If Thor loved him, Loki wouldn't know what to think. If Thor loved him, Loki knew he would be unbearably sad, but he didn't know why he would feel that way. The thought of Thor falling in love with Loki as he was hurt him badly, terribly, but why it would hurt? It seemed so strange, he couldn't even begin to search for the reason.

All these thoughts had run wildly around his head throughout the night before, for he contemplated heavily about his strange situation, and he came to school next morning none the brighter for his musings. The only concrete conclusion he had made was that he had been inexcusably rude to Thor and it was absolutely necessary for him to apologize. It was already the fifth day of his being a girl, so he felt the lack of time strongly. It was Friday, and the next time he would meet Thor would be on Sunday, the day of the ball. He had to find Thor as soon as possible. Loki didn't want to leave Astrid with any bruises to her reputation, even if she were imaginary.

During the school hours, in class, he hardly paid attention to the professors, whose lectures he'd already read years ago, and couldn't refrain from looking at Thor frequently. He hoped he could catch a glance and perhaps hint that he wanted a conversation, but to his dismay not once did Thor turn his way. The latter was animatedly engaged in various conversations with pals, buddies and girls, making Loki more desperate each progressive hour. Fandral also wondered aloud why he was so fidgety today, and Loki had to give an apologetic smile to dismiss his suspicions.

An opportunity opened up after classes ended. He hastily bade farewell to Fandral, whose puzzled look he didn't wait to address, and rushed out the door to find Thor. The tall blonde was a few feet away from him, setting out for home. Loki quickly closed the distance.

"Thor! Wait, Thor!" he called, breathlessly.

Thor turned. He had worn a smile, but upon seeing Loki's face it suddenly vanished, leaving, to Loki's bewilderment, an expression of frustration and fear.  _Fear?_  thought Loki. But he brushed it aside from his mind and went straight to his point.

"Listen, Thor, I'm...about yesterday..." he began, flushing and glancing nervously at Thor.

Thor wore the same pained expression, silently waiting. The hallway in which they had chosen to talk was quiet, for there were no students around except the two of them, and the only sounds were the muffled steps and conversations of students in other parts of the school.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he continued. "I was...I was inexcusably rude to accept Fandral so directly in front of you when you warned me not to. But," he said, looking straight into Thor's troubled eyes to show his sincerity, "it wasn't out of spite! It was...it was so sudden so I didn't know what to do except -"

Loki stopped. Except what? Except that he was so surprised he accidentally said "yes"? That sounded so silly. Loki blushed deeply, unable to continue, and in his state of anxiety he began to play with his braid, running his fingers up and down the bumpy texture.

"Except what?" asked Thor.

What should he say? "Except..." Loki muttered, fidgeting his braid with more speed. "Except..."

"Except?" prodded Thor, furrowing his brows in what Loki took to be impatience.

It was too much. "Except you made me so nervous I accepted him without knowing that I did!" he blurted. Then he gasped, realizing what had just tumbled out of his impulsive mouth. His hand tortured his braid so much that it was literally becoming undone. Loki bit his lips. "I-I'm sorry," he quickly said, reddening and looking away, "Oh, just forget about what-"

Suddenly, Thor reached out and grabbed Loki's fidgeting hand in a firm but gentle grasp. Loki, taken off guard, stepped backwards and met the wall, with Thor following suit. Thor moved in and trapped Loki against the wall, and his thick arms, strong jaw, sculpted body, and especially his piercing, passionate blue eyes - strangely sad all of a sudden - were too close to Loki's own, too close. Loki could no longer tell if it was the heat of Thor's proximity or his own blood that created the tropical haze around his cheeks.

"Nervous?" asked Thor softly. "I make you...nervous?" He sounded unutterably sad and frustrated.

Loki swallowed, and couldn't find his voice.

"I'm sorry if I make you feel that way. Truly, I am. I simply..." For several seconds, Thor hovered mid-sentence, staring at Loki. Then, for reasons beyond godly comprehension, Thor traced a soft finger, gentle as a flower petal, down Loki's jaw to his chin, and then leaned in, closing the distance between their lips. Loki found that he had lost all cerebral connection to his muscles. His heart was beating like a hungry jaguar desperately chasing its prey. A crimson feeling of crazy passion blossomed within his chest. Nothing made sense anymore.

Then, when their lips were but a hair's breadth apart, the next words Thor said nearly stopped his heart. It was barely audible, but he still heard it.

"I care for you, Astrid."

All the feelings of wonder and passion that had been spreading throughout his body like wildfire extinguished as suddenly as a dream in the morning. All of a sudden Loki felt numb, but he didn't know why. He felt that a void had opened where his heart used to be, but he didn't know why. All he knew was that the minute after Thor had uttered those five words, tears began pouring down his cheeks like there was no tomorrow. It was so strange. He didn't feel as though he was crying, but there it was, the unfamiliar wetness on his skin.

At once, Thor leaned away from Loki, eyes as puzzled as Loki himself felt. The fingers that had held Loki's chin now moved up to wipe away the silver rivulets. Loki bowed his head in a vain attempt to hide his wet face, and Thor stepped away.

"I'm...I'm sorry," said Thor, quietly, his face pained. "I didn't realize how much you didn't like it. I'm sorry."

Thor walked away. Loki didn't stop him and stood there for a long while, furiously wiping away the tears, staring at the quivering drops of silver on his fingertips trying to understand the cause for their unexpected existence.

_I care for you, Astrid._

* * *

Loki was still standing there, puzzled and swollen-eyed, when Fandral came upon him. As usual, the latter announced his presence with a light tap on the shoulder.

"Hey there," said Fandral, smiling slightly. "Why aren't you home yet? I thought you'd be somewhere else since you rushed out so quick-" He stopped short once he saw Loki's eyes, and his smile fell, replaced by a rather blank expression of mild concern. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Loki shook his head with a dismissive smile. "I'm...not sure either. Please don't worry about it." He squeezed a smile onto his face in hopes that it would turn Fandral away from the current subject. Fandral simply looked at him for a few seconds, seeming to wonder what to do, and then, to Loki's relief, changed the topic.

"Well, I hope you feel better. Have you gotten your dress yet?" he asked, brightening his face again. The silver in his eyes gleamed, making his eyes seem completely white save for a dot of black in the middle that was the pupil. It was a little unsettling, but right then Loki's thoughts were still too muddled to pay attention to it.

"Dress...?" echoed Loki, momentarily confused at the randomness of the word.

Fandral mirrored his look of surprise. "Dress, Astrid, dress! For the ball! Don't you have one? It's only a couple of days away!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Loki, the thought of the ball having completely slipped his mind. He contemplated his and his father's wardrobes for a little while, trying to recall whether his father had ever saved clothing that belonged to his deceased mother. There were so many closets, wardrobes and drawers in his home, however, that remembering if he had anything appropriate in his home for this school ball was downright impossible. He had to go home and check.

"I'm not sure yet," said Loki truthfully. "I need to go home and check."

"Because I was thinking...if you didn't, would you like me to accompany you to hunt for one? You're my date after all."

"Oh, right," acknowledged Loki, blushing slightly from recalling his incidence with Thor. "Well, I suppose if I don't find anything I'll...I'll give you a call."

"Okay," said Fandral. He laughed as he said, "but I hope you won't find any!" He squeezed Loki's shoulder's in a friendly gesture of farewell and left Loki alone again with his thoughts in the hall.

Fandral was a nice guy. He didn't make Loki feel as if every moment his emotions teetered on the edge of a great cliff, as if the slightest breeze would destroy the balance and cause his whole world to tumble into chaos. He felt controlled around Fandral. It was more than he could say about himself around Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


	10. A Rude Awakening

He ravaged all the possible locations of clothes in his mansion. There were so many rooms in his house he felt sure he would find something suitable for the upcoming ball, and he predicted correctly.

They were at the very back of his father's closet, which could easily fit ten elephants. Loki ran his fingers and eyes through all of twenty-seven clothing racks, feeling the rich fabric of Mr. Laufeyson's tuxedos, cloaks, suits, and overcoats, a little excited thinking that one day these would all become his, when he touched something different on the twenty-eighth rack. The form of the clothes was different here; they were soft at the shoulders and rigid at the waist, the opposite of what one would feel from touching a man's suit. On pulling one of the strange pieces of clothing out, he saw that it was a gorgeous, flowing gown that fit his size perfectly. He discovered that the whole of the the twenty-eighth rack, which ran ten meters long, was dedicated to his mother's dresses, and each dress was a priceless gem.

He found a deep emerald gown that flowed in silky waves from a petite waist down to the floor, and the fabric was pulled and fastened at the hip in such a way that the creases resembled ocean waves. The emerald silk gave off a brilliant sheen at certain angles under light, and it wrapped tightly around a simple yet elegant bodice that defined all the angles of a woman's lady in the most modest way. Loki didn't like flashiness, and this light, uncomplicated yet beautiful little gem matched his tastes exactly. Although it bared the shoulders, it was the most conservative of all that was available and the only green one, and since Loki loved the colour green, he laid it aside on a sofa for the next day.

Somehow, finding a dress relieved a weight from his heart he had not known he had carried. On closer inspection of his heart, he realized that having found a dress meant that he didn't have to go shopping with Fandral, the thought of which somehow gave him something unpleasant.

* * *

The next day opened ominously. Loki had forgotten to set the alarm, and awoke only half an hour before noon, which gave him less than two hours to prepare for the ball. Loki knew he couldn't be late because he had to leave the party before the evening; his spell ended today in the late afternoon, exactly a week from when he had first cast the spell, and he absolutely could not afford to transform back before he was beyond anyone's sight. And he only had four hours at best to enjoy his last moments being Astrid.

If only he had listened to Thor and refused Fandral's offer.

Loki blushed as he hastily did the make-up - his mother's unused supply, again found in the back of the closet - and his hair. If he had magic, he would be able to finish within minutes. When he finished in about an hour, he thought he looked quite decent for a girl. Quickly, he slipped on his dress and waited in the uncomfortable and restricting outfit at the door for Fandral's car.

A sleek, white car pulled up in front of his mansion. Loki walked - rather, stumbled - out of the entrance in his terrible heels, trudging across the long driveway towards a grinning Fandral opening the passenger door for his date. Fandral's grin pulled up Loki's cheeks into a smile as well.

"Hey there sweet," said Fandral, extending a hand to help. "You look gorgeous."

"Erm, thank you." Loki blushed. Being complimented by a guy was a little strange.

"Well, get in. Party's about to start."

Fandral zoomed his car through the roads towards the ball. When they arrived at the special ballroom entrance of their school, Fandral helped him out of the car with a gentleman's hand, the same hand with which he later laid on Loki's waist. To Loki's extreme discomfort he inched his hand lower and lower until it was right on his buttocks, but Loki was much too polite to object and held his complaints inside. Loki glanced around shyly, for it was his first time going to such an event, and then his eyes met Thor's.

Thor was, in simplest terms, absolutely dashing. His posture erect, his stature high, he represented the epitome of what every single girl in the school desired. He wore an ebony suit with a sleek, modern design that brought out all the attractive angles and curves of his muscles, broad shoulders and narrow waist, a crimson shirt inside that perfectly complemented his slicked-back blonde hair, and his overall appearance would have been that of a prince if not for his terrible, dark expression.

Loki gasped and averted his glance, believing for a moment that the target of the gaze was himself. A second glance corrected his assumption; the murderous gaze was shooting invisible sparks at Fandral, who obliviously laughed and conversed with the people around them. Loki's heart pumped quite rapidly and blood rushed to his face as he realized that he himself might be hated by Thor because he had chosen to be with the latter's most despised enemy. Somehow, that depressed him. A lot.

He didn't have time to dwell on his feelings, however. Fandral, with his hands still low on Loki's bottom, guided them into the building, where beautiful decorations of various golden and sparkling colours ornamented the gorgeous hall, already crowded with people.

The ball had already begun.

They walked over to the snack table and grabbed a couple glasses of ambrosia, downing one or two small but exquisite-looking pieces of desert. Then they hit the dance floor, and for two hours Loki was lost within a sea of people, a cornucopia of euphonious music, rubbing against the rough arms of Fandral, who, sometimes, to Loki's slight irritation, grabbed and caressed parts of Loki's body that would usually elicit from girls a strong desire to slap. But since Loki had nothing against Fandral, and couldn't feel embarrassed because he was, after all, a boy, he kept silent.

Some time after two and a half hours they made their way back to the snack table. Both were sweating and panting and drank several glasses of water. Then one needed to urinate.

"I'll be right back," wheezed Fandral, grinning foolishly, the excitement of dancing still thick in his blood. Loki nodded and Fandral disappeared into the crowd.

Loki stood there for a while, wondering what to do. He hadn't seen Thor all evening, which was a fine thing indeed. He wouldn't have known how to act with Fandral beside him except blush like a ripe apple. At the thought of Fandral, he realized that his own bladder was filled to the brim and desperately needed relief. Putting down his glass with a grimace, he too slipped through the happy crowd towards the washroom signs.

But he went into the wrong washroom.

Even after a week of being female, he still felt it against his most primal instinct to begin suddenly to do what society had strictly forbidden him from doing because of his gender. He didn't realize his mistake until he heard male voices halfway through the convoluted passage that usually made the entrance of a public washroom. Quickly he pivoted on his heels and was about to rush out quietly, unseen, when he heard Fandral's voice, sounding a lot ruder than usual.

"...tupid and easy," said Fandral's voice.

Loki's curiosity was piqued. What was stupid and easy? Though Loki hated eavesdroppers and gossip and rumours, he couldn't help it in this case.

Another voice echoed around the walls. "Yeah? You think you can lend her to me for a few? She's pretty hot."

"Hey back off, I haven't finished with her. When I get bored I'll give 'er to you, free."

Who were they talking about? Loki wondered, completely without a clue. They sounded rather mean.

"Free? Seriously, man? Why so cheap?"

"She might look all cold and hard-to-get and all, but I've never been able to touch a girl's junk so easily. She's so freaking easy to get. Not worth much," said Fandral's voice. They both guffawed, and the sound was unusually disturbing, grating on Loki's ears.

"What's her name again?" asked the other man, still laughing.

"Astrid."

Involuntarily, Loki gasped as his heart imploded a little.  _Him_? But the only reason he let Fandral touch him was because he thought it was accidental, and because he didn't want to upset Fandral. Fandral, who had been so nice to him. How could he say such a cruel thing? And why? "Easy"? "Stupid"? "Cheap"? That was too much. It pained him to realize he had misplaced his trust, that he had been cheated, and that he should have listened to Thor. Oh, Thor. Thor had known the truth. Perhaps he should have been with Thor this whole time. And to think that he might have ruined any potential for relationships with Thor forever...

He felt a sharp sour sting shoot through his noise, the pain of which unfailingly preceded tears. Loki needed to escape, quickly, but unfortunately in his haste his heels caught on the hem of his long dress and he crashed loudly against the wall. Instantly, the guffawing within in the bathroom stopped. A short silence followed, then footsteps began making their way towards Loki. But Loki couldn't flee; he was frozen with fear.

At the last minute he turned, and met Fandral's cold, shallow eyes. The change in Fandral's face was frightening; he seemed a completely different person. His silver eyes were wide with surprise, but soon they narrowed as his face twisted into a grotesque sneer.

"Look at you," he spat, "eavesdropping. Sorry, bitch, but I'm going to have to speed up our relationship."

Then he lunged at Loki.


End file.
